Temper Tempest
by Golum
Summary: Ron reluctantly helps as Harry and Snape make a strange discovery. Pairing: SSHP mpreg


**Temper Tempest**

**By Golum**

**Summery: Ron reluctantly helps as Snape make a strange discovery.**

**Pairing: SS/HP**

**Authors note:**

**By all the gods! I've written a lighthearted PG rated MPREG story! PG- I don't even read PG if I'm not bored out of my skull. How totally bizarre! Please do not hold this story against me. **

**Disclamer: I still own nothing. Everything belongs to JKR.**

Snape was frighteningly more grumpy then usual, insisted Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort-Himself-Thus-Saving-All-Wizardkind. He claimed that this morning had been the worst, culminating with a small comment blown out of proportion to the point of Snape tossing the untouched breakfast eggs against the wall and storming back to bed.

Harry declared that he could not live with it much longer.

Ron Weasley just rolled his eyes. How could anyone tell if the spiteful, sarcastic potion master was being extra nasty? After all, the world would stop revolving if the man actually ever became nice. Really, why would anyone not at least half-way bonkers live with him at all.

The surly potions master still terrorized his students, ex-students, and colleagues alike with his supercilious manner, sibilantly dangerous tones and deep sarcasms. Any voluntary association with him should require an intervention at the least, if not a forced trip to St. Mungo's psych ward.

Hermione smirked at Harry's declaration with her patented told-you-so look number twelve; the one that claimed that deep down she wished that she had been wrong regarding her estimation of a relationship.

Ron could tell that she had to work a little harder then normal to refrain from outright gloating. After all, she had been no more thrilled than Ron had when Harry had finally come clean about the secret love-of-his-life … ex-deatheater, ex-spy, pseudo-traitor and possibly the most hated British wizard still alive, Severus Snape.

Most of the Order of the Phoenix had joined Ron and Hermione for the intervention attempt but it hadn't helped; Harry and Snape were still together.

Ron racked his brain to think of any excuse that would get him away from his surprisingly cosy flat, and absent from the conversation about a man that Ron still detested - despite all the unexpected revelations about him.

"So you will be moving out?"

For just a moment, Ron's hopes that his best friend had finally come to his senses were raised, only to be dashed almost instantly.

Harry threw up his hands in tired exasperation. "No! What part of I love him do you people not ever get? I thought you were at least starting to bury the hatchet with him. No, I won't be moving out. I just want to find out what's wrong, and fix it!"

Hermione serenely began to serve the tea, already loading Ron's plate with all his favorites. She even gave him the last of the rum biscuits, his favorite in silent acknowledgement of the stress their friend was placing on him by talking about his relationship.

That was why he loved his wife of three years. In spite of her impressive brilliance, bossy ways, and downright dangerous scary power, he truly adored her. Especially when she was taking care of him.

"Have you tried actually asking the man what is wrong?" Hermione asked as she handed Harry his teacup.

Harry slumped back and ran his free hand through his perpetually messy black hair.

"I've tried. I really have. Multiple times even." He flushed, and couldn't quite meet Hermione's eyes as he said it, leaving some major room for doubt in Ron's mind as to how hard he had tried. "I was hoping you guys could help…"

"Mate, we'd be willing to help you but given how Snape feels about us and, you know, we never really thought he was good for …"

"Ron! There is no reason to go into all that again." Hermione shot a wicked glare at her husband before turning her attention back to Harry.

"Now, Harry, at least you could tell us a bit more about the problem. We'll see if we have any ideas."

Ron wanted to sink his head into his hands and weep. He didn't approve of the relationship at all, no matter if Harry was usually as happy in it as if he'd won the quidditch world cup. Yet now he was being asked to help fix it?

Worse, once Hermione got the bit between her teeth, there would be no way to refuse without risking his bed privileges. He had missed his first and probably only chance to head this farce off at the pass.

Instead of crying, he took the last of the scrum pudding in revenge.

Harry sipped his tea and smiled at Hermione's willingness to listen, probably already aware that he had won.

"Well, he's angry all the time for no reason."

Seeing the look on Ron's face, Harry clarified at length. "For no reason that even he can give. He snips at me for nothing! He won't come to meals; when he does he yells that my cooking is getting worse. He's restless. He rarely sleeps anymore though he is tired all the time and he's having bad dreams, worse then normal. All he'll say is that they're very vivid."

"Vivid?... Accio notebook. Accio pen"

To Ron's horror, Hermione summoned paper and one of the muggle writing instruments she liked so much and began taking notes. It was now a fact; he was doomed to aid Snape.

"Vivid. He won't tell me anything else. I thought we were past his worst nightmares years ago. He will not take dreamless sleep for it. He says our entire stock has turned but that he doesn't have time to brew more. In fact, he doesn't even_ want_ to brew anything anymore! I don't know what he'll do when the fall term starts up. And…" He hesitated.

"What, Harry?"

"He …. wnt…ltma…hdnm…" was the blushing mumbled reply.

"A bit louder, please."

"I said he won't let me lay a hand on him." An embarrassed pause. "I mean sexually."

Ron could not help it; he had to say it.

"That's got to be an improvement, don't you think?"

"Ron, that's enough! Go on, Harry."

"He flinches when I touch him, as if I would hurt him. If I press him, he will … use his hands. Nothing else. He doesn't even want me to reciprocate. He claims he has a headache all the time."

Ron covered his ears and pleaded.

"No! No more details! I am perfectly content to think that you'd prefer not to touch him. It was bad enough that we saw you kiss him under the mistletoe at our Christmas party last year. This is too much!"

Tolerating the greasy git at parties and dinners and being required to make civil conversation with him was bad enough. Being forced to imagine the ugly git as a sexual being was far beyond the bounds of friendship.

After another dirty look at Ron, Hermione asked. "Have there ever been sexual problems between you before?"

"Never! He's relentlessly aggressive usually. Insatiable. Frankly, he normally tires me out in bed." Harry was completely red faced at that declaration.

Ron put down his plate, all appetite lost. There was no way he could eat during this conversation.

"When was the last time you two…got together that way? And how long have things been this bad."

Harry ignored Ron's groan at the question and answered softly.

"It's been almost 2 weeks since…anything and almost a month since I first noticed something wrong. It's getting worse. The last time I tried to kiss him he shoved me away, physically."

Harry sounded as miserable as Ron had ever heard him. Even being banned from quidditch in his fifth year of Hogwarts had not affected Harry so badly.

Hermione gentled her voice. "Do you think it might be the last of the deatheater trials? They weren't that long ago. Maybe they stirred something up from the war."

"No, we both have our ghosts there but, I'm sure that isn't it. That, we could work out. We could talk to each other about it. That's what brought us together. Talking about…war things. This is different. He's moody, even for him. And he goes from angry, to sad, to quiet in a blink of an eye."

"Could he have met someone else?"

Ron had to ask with as much derision as he could, "Who else would have him?"

Predictably, Harry jumped to Snape's defense. "Plenty would. He is sexy, charismatic, mesmerizing; his voice could arouse a stone!" He turned back to Hermione, "No, I don't think it's someone else. At least I hope not. It not like he leaves the house that much during the summer, and I know who goes though our wards."

"Hmm, perhaps he's sick. Has he gone to Madame Pomfrey lately?"

"Hermione, he's more likely to play St. Nick at your _next _Christmas party than to voluntarily go to a mediwitch! Besides, he's angry, not sick. He never gets sick even if I do. "

"Well, look at what you've described. Not sleeping, not eating, extreme moodiness, skin that's sensitive to touch, headaches, things tasting or smelling off to him." Hermione marked each symptom off as she went down the list she had written. "And if I'm feeling sick, my temper goes off a bit."

"More like it goes off like an erupting volcano," Ron muttered under his breath, but perhaps a bit too audibly from the tight-lipped stare his wife gave him before finishing her thought.

"Really, Harry, it all fits. I think he might just be ill."

"I think you've got something. What if Severus is really sick! I mean he took all those curses from Voldemort over the years; it can't have been good for him!" Harry was panicky at the thought.

Ron, immensely tired of the whole thing and grumpy himself at what looked like a lonely evening spent on the couch given his wife growing attitude, made a suggestion. It was not as if he was concerned for the greasy bat; it was just his way of trying to speed the unpleasant topic along.

He submitted that Harry ought to contact Pomfrey and arrange for an appointment or even floo back to Snape and just take him straight to Hogwarts School's infirmary. Immediately.

Somehow, that seemingly simple plan backfired on him.

"You two will come along, to give moral support, right? Sev isn't going to go along with this at all."

The next thing Ron knew, they were all lined up with handfuls of floo powder in front of his fireplace, looking like lemmings about to make the jump. All attempts to excuse himself had failed spectacularly. Not even his heartfelt offer to stay back and clean the tea dishes had worked.

It seemed as if he would be going to the home that Harry had made with the fearsome ex-deatheater, no matter what he wanted. 

"Potter-Snape residence."

Snape was, to Ron's eyes, far less then thrilled to see first Ron then Hermione step into his book lined parlor. The thin, sinister wizard flung the volume he had been reading to the floor and pulled himself off the Slytherin-green wingback chair that he had been apparently comfortably ensconced upon.

Lankiness had become exaggerated in the Professor. He did look sickly to Ron. Of course, he had never looked well to Ron, either. Nevertheless, he defiantly seemed under the weather.

"I was under the impression that Harry had agreed to fraternize with the two of you elsewhere whenever feasible. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure? "

Snape's typically dry sarcastic tones only added to the overall irritation that Ron felt.

Despite the lack of invitation, Ron took one of the twin silver-damask tub chairs that flanked the fireplace. At least it was as comfortable as he remembered and it was close to the fire. After all, it was never too early to plan for a quick getaway, he thought before he spoke.

"I think that we'll let Harry tell you that."

Luckily, Harry chose that moment to step out of the fire.

"Care to enlighten me as to why we are extending our hospitality beyond its normal bounds, Harry?" the soft cultivated tones were tinged with annoyance.

Snape had barely glanced at Harry when he entered the room. Having previously observed the rather disgusting light that came into Snape's obsidian eyes when Harry came into a room… and the way those eyes lingered in places Ron didn't like to think that Harry had, Ron was instantly sure that something was really wrong with the relationship beyond the obvious.

Or that something serious was wrong with Snape.

It was hard to decide which possibility he liked better.

Still, he was here to back up his friend…

"You wouldn't know what hospitality was, Snape. Your type isn't capable of warmth or kindness."

"Still attempting to be the class clown, Mr. Weasley? When will you realize that even the role of fool takes more native intelligence than you were blessed with?"

"At least I'm blessed with enough intelligence to not abuse my partner!"

There! That had put a flush into Snape's thin waxen cheeks. At least he looked alive now.

"Ron! That not what we are here for! "" Hermione, attempting to restrain him, laid a warning hand on Ron's shoulder.

Snape's response was to turn on Harry.

"So you went running to these immature brats whom you call friends! What were you howling to them about? Did I hurt your feelings this morning?" Snape was practically spiting in Harry's face by the end of his rant, sending Ron into a traumatic flashback to Snape's bullying ways whilst teaching them potions.

"I…I..." Harry turned a helpless look towards Hermione.

He was out of luck, as it appeared that Hermione was also in flashback mode.

"Harry was just…ahh…"

Snape just raised one black eyebrow and looked back and forth at both of them.

"Cannot one of you articulate a simple sentence? I seem to remember a better grasp of the English language during your school days."

Ron rolled his eyes, held his breath, and charged ahead into the breach.

"Stop being such a huge git all the time! We're Harry's friends, not that you understand that concept!" Ron found himself on his feet and pacing as he exploded with pent up frustrations.

"He came to us for advice because he's worried that something's wrong with you. Surprisingly, after consideration, some of us decided that the problem probably was not you being your spiteful evil self. Instead, they're worried that you might be sick, you nasty self-righteous prat! "

Snape seemed caught between general irritation and outright fury as drew himself up to his full height. He turned, looked down his long aquiline nose and unleashed a death-glare upon Ronald. Ron glared back, his temper making him lose the caution that he had learned as a student to show around the difficult wizard.

"And if there is such concern about my health, why am I not the recipient of a polite inquiry?"

"Because you're being such a prickly arse that they can't get a word out! So, are you sick or merely reveling in your ability to make everyone miserable?"

For a moment, Ron thought that Snape was going to reach for his wand. Ron put his hand in his trouser pocket and grasped the floo powder that he had secreted there earlier. However, instead of attacking, Snape retreated to the wingback, crossing his black-clad arms and radiating resentment.

"What business would it be of yours, if I were?" Each word was dripping with cold deliberate menace.

Harry had finally found his voice. "I care about you, Severus. And they do too. That makes it our business."

Ron could not help but snort at that. Any assertion that he cared for Snape was patently absurd.

Strangely, Snape seemed more comfortable with Ron's rejection of him than Harry's declaration.

"Well, make it not your business! If I am a trifle under the weather, that's still no good reason to go running to your friends. Unless you wanted to humiliate me, there are …"

"Hah! So you are sick!" Ron cried out with the air of a research wizard making a great discovery. "Have you been to a mediwitch?"

That earned him another glare. "Really this is none of your business, Mr. Weasley! You and your wife may toddle on home and take…"

Furious at the man's arrogance, Ron interrupted again. "Since you still seem ill, and you won't tell us if you've been to a mediwitch, why don't we just get you checked out now?"

Not sure if he would have a hand by the end of this, Ron grabbed Snape by the upper arm, pulling him out of the chair and over to the fireplace. He then cast his handful of floo powder into the fire and clearly enunciating "Hogwarts infirmary", he firmly pushed the now livid Snape through.

Then he stood, shaking from his own audacity at manhandling the dangerous wizard, and looked wide-eyed at the other two.

Hermione had her hands over her face and Harry was actually slack-jawed in shock, still staring at the burning logs.

"Oh, Merlin! I don't believe I did that! I just lost my patience with the git." Ron's voice was quaking.

Harry's repeated cries of "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" just echoed and increased Ron's own fears.

Ron felt his own knees grow weak. He turned back to the fire himself, wondering how fast the enraged wizard would be back to enact an undoubtedly painful revenge. Clearly, this slip of Ron's temper was going to be fatal.

"Harry? How long do you think I have to live once he comes back?"

"Seconds, if he's feeling merciful. I'd pray for seconds if I were you." Harry answered, "I'm wondering if Hermione and I will count as innocent bystanders to him…or maybe we should just leave now."

Hermione, still speechless, nodded vigorously at that.

"Cowards!" was Ron's only rejoinder. They continued the wait for Snape.

After a couple of minutes, he added, "I'll run for it; if I take off now it might take him months to track me down. You'll cover for me Harry, won't you?"

Harry came up and placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. "He'll find you in a few hours at most. Trust me; he is tougher than Voldemort ever was. Your best bet is begging him to make it quick. It might even work." Harry gave a disturbingly saucy wink. "He likes begging. Trust me."

Ron shrugged off the hand at that.

"Ugg! You don't have to tell me these things. I do not want to know!"

Hermione came up on his other side and put loving, forgiving arms around him. "I'll tell Molly you were brave at the end. I'm sure she'll help me plan the funeral."

"Thanks for the overwhelming help." He gave her a pleading look. "You could defend me, you know. He hates you less than he does me…"

Hermione gave him her most skeptical smile. "I don't think so, Ron."

Harry had dropped the teasing and was wholly focused on the sedately burning flames. "Isn't he taking a long time? I mean the turn-around time is a lot less than this. Where is he?"

"Hogwarts' infirmary?" Hermione ventured after a moment of contemplation.

"Still? It's been going on 15 minutes! He should be back by now with his wand out and ready to kill Ron!"

"Oy!"

Practical as always, Hermione suggested that one of them should go to the infirmary to check. Ron thought that idea sounded first-rate.

"Harry can go check on the bastard and you and I can go on home. Really, we did what we said we would. Besides, I think you were right the other day about us needing to take a weekend holiday. We can start it a few days early and ...," Ron babbled.

Double cries of "Ron!" ended his verbal escape attempt.

Still no Snape.

It took several minutes of argument before Ron , Hermione and Harry all flooed into the infirmary at Hogwarts. Despite their trepidation, there was no immediate sign of the potion master. The large main room, though filled with rows of hospital beds and privacy screens and bedpans that Ron had scrubbed for detention all too often, was empty of human presence. Ron shuddered from the all too familiar antiseptic smell.

He hated sick rooms, even empty one. It just brought back every bad war memory he had. Judging from Harry's face, he felt the same way too.

"The last time I was here was when Sev was released from Azkaban. They had made a mess of him on top of what Voldemort and Lucius had. You know that's why I quit the aurors." Harry said somberly. "Where do you think Sev is, anyway? I expected him to be greeting us with a glower."

Before Harry could become further alarmed at an apparently missing Snape, they heard the raised voices of Snape and Madame Pomfrey emanating from her office.

"If that's all, Poppy, I shall be going. As you can tell from your diagnostics, there is nothing to cause alarm. I am simply a bit under the weather. It is not my concern if Harry and his friends are excitable."

"Not so fast, Severus! I have a few more spells to try. You said that you've been having headaches and nausea. Anything else?"

Snape was making a run for it, Ron thought. Sure enough, he hastily entered the main infirmary with Pomfrey trailing anxiously behind. He was buttoning his shirt, having clearly been subjected to one or another of Pomfrey's tests. Snape stopped just short of Ron, and snarling, he gestured behind himself.

"You see what you have started, boy! Tell her that you were mistaken!"

In gratitude for not having been instantly attacked, Ron might have even taken pity on him, but Hermione had already stepped forward and begun to share her notes with Pomfrey.

"Oh, my!" was the concerned mediwitch's response to the list. "He told me he was just a little nauseous in the mornings and had a persistent headache. This changes a few things. Severus, it will just take a moment more."

With that she waved her wand in a complex manuver and cast another spell.

A scroll and self-writing feather appeared, hovering nearby, and began writing as her wand slowly traveled down the length of Snape's too-thin body. It took several long minutes, while Snape glared at each of the trio of friends in turn. Finally it was done. Madame Pomfrey looked over the scroll, her eyes widening comically as she read.

Turning to face Snape head on, and squaring her shoulders as if facing a firing squad, the mediwitch opened her mouth but nothing came out.

"Just say it, you insufferable bint!" Snape glared at Pomfrey.

Harry tried to take Snape's hand but was irritably shaken off.

"Truly, Harry, there is no need to fuss. I'm sure that this is nothing too serious." Snape looked questioningly at the mediwitch.

Pomfrey smiled sweetly. Her eyes twinkled as madly as Dumbledore's ever had.

"All right, Severus, have it your way. You are pregnant."

Snape openly gaped at the mediwitch as if she had announced that he was the second coming, then he swayed and turned white. Ron would have laughed if he wasn't busy being thoroughly floored by the revelation himself.

Pregnant wizards? That was something from the old legends, not real life!

For Harry's part, instead of steadying the greasy geezer, Harry fainted; he keeled over backwards like a felled log. Hermione was busy making sure that Harry didn't hit the ground like one, when Snape started to slump towards the floor also. It was left to Ron to make that catch like some sort of reluctant seeker.

He managed to break the fall of the expectant man before any contact with the floorboards.

"Oh dear, I had worried that it might be too much of a shock." Poppy mumbled to herself. "Hermione, could you see to Harry for a moment. I need to see to Severus."

She gestured for Ron to place Snape in the smaller more private isolation room rather than just the nearest bed. The potion master was still completely insensible.

Not being able to get to his wand, Ron had swept Snape up and deposited him where directed, even helping the mediwitch arrange the sheet over him. It was almost worrisome to feel how thin and frail the man was in his arms. After making sure Snape was completely insensible, he turned to the fussing mediwitch.

"He'll be alright, won't he?" He took care to whisper in case Hermione got any outlandish idea that Ron was concerned.

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "He should be as long as someone makes sure he takes care of himself."

After casting a monitoring spell, she and Ron returned to the outer ward where Hermione had arranged Harry on one of the beds.

By now, Harry was rousing from his feint enough to ask, "Men can get pregnant?"

Pomfrey gently told him, "Wizards can. You just recover from the shock a bit and I promise that I'll go over everything you need to know with both you and Severus. For now, just rest."

Hermione face showed her puzzlement as she asked." "I've never heard of a male getting pregnant. It is thought to be impossible in the muggle world. How did it happen?"

"Love combined with a great deal of magical power. It's very rare, but it does occur. The odds are about 60 million to one."

Ron whistled. "Well, no wonder you don't teach about it in your sex ed. class."

Poppy's lips quirked in amusement.

"I would at least mention it, if the board of governors could be persuaded to allow me more then one half-day of basic hygiene class each for boys and girls."

"Oh."

"I do hope that Severus will allow me to be present when he announces that he will need maternity leave to the rest of the staff." A small giggle erupted from her smiling lips at the thought.

The monitoring charm chose that moment to sound its hideous beep. By the time Ron and Hermione had helped Harry up and into the private room, Snape was sitting up and though still chalky white, seemed to be fine. Pomfrey was giving him a potion and casting a charm even as they got there.

"I need to keep you here for a day or so to see if we can get some of your symptoms under control. But this should help temporarily." She drew a breath. "Also, there's a lot to discuss and I doubt if this pregnancy will get any easier. Men's bodies are not adapted to bearing children. But with some skill and a bit of luck, we'll get both you and the baby through this just fine."

"I refuse to believe this. You're tests must be wrong!" Snape was protesting but far more weakly than normal. "How could this have happened?"

"I'm afraid not, Severus. You are pregnant. Seven weeks according to the spells. I even know what sex the baby is already."

"Seven? …What… sex?"

He had never heard Snape stammer before this. Ron almost felt sorry for the nasty blighter; he sounded more shaken than he had been when Harry, along with the rest of the order, had insisted that the Wizengamot clear Snape's name.

"What is it?"

"A girl. You and Harry will be having a baby girl."

She smiled. "And as to how this happened, I could go into the birds and the bees for you but I'm quite sure you don't want or need me to. It happens to wizards, Severus. Rarely, but it does happen. It just goes to show that you and Harry really are quite good together. We will get into it more later but, in the meantime, I want you to rest."

Harry had quietly slipped next to Snape and clasped his hand, holding it tenderly. Ron was surprised that Snape didn't just allow the semi-public familiarity but even squeezed Harry's hand back and pulled him closer to the bed.

"You're happy about this, Harry?"

"More staggered than anything, but I think I will be happy once it all sinks in. I care so much about you that I can't think strait. I've _always _wanted a family. This is all so …overwhelming. What about you?"

Ron couldn't miss the genuine fear of potential loss in Harry's eyes as he asked about Snape's feelings.

"I suppose that I will get used to it. I have gotten used to you after all." Was Snape's response.

Ron assumed that for Snape it was practically romance and poetry. Then Snape blew his mind.

After kissing the hand that he held, Snape continued, "Harry, you should know that I adore you. I am sorry if I haven't made it clear. Despite your schoolboy days and all the other complications, to my utter astonishment, I fell in love with you. Completely, painfully, powerfully in love. Every move you make, every expression on your face, the things you do…just cause me to fall further. I am unreservedly yours and will be for as long as you will have me. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will ever change that."

As the couple tenderly kissed, Madame Pomfrey whispered, "Let's leave the lovebirds alone for a bit."

As Hermione led Ron quietly out of the diagnosis room, Ron couldn't help but see Harry, with his lips still hard-pressed to Snape's. It was quite clear that their tongues were already playfully engaged with each other. They practically radiated love and passion.

If it wasn't the evil bugger himself participating, Ron might have found the picture that it presented sweet, even touching.

One of Harry's hands was slipping underneath the sheet toward Snape's groin as he practically climbed into the bed with the ugly bugger.

Ron hastily shut his eyes to the dreadful sight. He did not need that image burned indelibly into his mind. He already thought that his brain was bleeding from the stress it had taken today.

As Hermione and Ron took their leave of the happy couple, Hermione leaned over and made a nicely lewd suggestion for celebrating the so-called good news themselves.

Hmmp. Maybe the day was looking up.


End file.
